


Clowning Around

by AlElizabeth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family, Gen, Horror, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4584198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlElizabeth/pseuds/AlElizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wee!Chester. Why is Sam so afraid of clowns? At first Dean thinks its because of a movie he made his brother watch but when Sam disappears from a public rest area, the real reason for his terror begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> No actual sexual activity (underage or non-con/rape) actually occurs in this fanfiction. There is inappropriate touching and mention of sexual assault of a child (not Sam) but I felt as though I should add the archive warning just to be safe. Read at your own discretion.

"Come on back and we'll see if you remember the simplest thing of all - how it is to be children, secure in belief and thus afraid of the dark" - Stephen King

Dean sighed as he jabbed the button on the TV remote at the screen, watching as the channels flashed by rapidly.

Sam was lying on his stomach beside his older brother, concentrating on the picture in his colouring-book he was scribbling over with a red Crayon.

"Dean, look!" the five-year old demanded and shoved the book towards his sibling.

The older boy looked down at the smiling clown that Sam had coloured completely red. Dean smiled at his brother, "That's great!"

Sam beamed back, "I like clowns. They're funny."

Dean chuckled and turned his attention back to the television.

"Dean?" Sam asked quietly, "When's Daddy coming home?"

The nine-year old sighed, "In a day or two, Sammy."

The younger boy frowned and stared down at his colouring-book. Dean reached over and wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders.

"Why don't you watch some TV with me for a while?" Dean suggested and Sam pushed the book off the bed so that he could sidle closer to his sibling.

The older brother flipped through the channels, trying to find something his sibling would like, having little luck. It was well past Sam's bedtime and many of the regularly programmed cartoons were not longer on the air at this time of night.

Dean peered down at his brother and saw that Sam's eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and deep. Smiling, Dean took his arm back and lay down on the bed beside his brother, propping himself up on his elbows so he could continue to channel surf.

The nine-year old set the remote down when he saw the title credits of a made-for-TV-movie come on. Checking once again to be certain that his brother was sleeping, Dean turned down the volume and turned his attention to the show.

W

Sam woke up warm and drowsy, annoyed that Dean had let him fall asleep. Blinking up at the television screen, Sam saw that his brother had stopped changing the channels and was watching something that looked like an adult show. Sam frowned. Daddy had told Dean that they could only watch cartoons because of the last 'grown-up' movie he'd let Sam watch. Sam shuddered as he recalled the scary underground worms that lived in the desert and ate people. Dean had thought it was hilarious but Sam didn't. He was sure the worms would be able to come up through the floor of their motel room and eat them. Not even the bed was safe.

Sam narrowed his eyes at the television screen. This show didn't really look much like the worm movie. He watched for a moment as a tall man with a ponytail and glasses talked to someone on the phone. Maybe this was one of those boring grown-up shows that Daddy sometimes watched.

"Hey, Sam," Dean's voice made him jump and he glared at his older brother.

"Can we watch cartoons?" Sam asked as he stared at the TV from the corner of his eye. Now there was a boy about his own age wearing a yellow rain coat talking to an older boy wearing stripped pajamas and lying in bed.

"Sorry Sammy," Dean apologized, not really looking sorry at all, "There's nothing on right now."

Sam frowned. Dean could find some cartoons to watch if he wanted to.

"Why don't you watch this with me for a little bit," Dean nudged Sam's shoulder playfully, "There's a clown in it."

"Okay," Sam agreed, still slightly unsure of the show but he trusted his brother. Snuggling close to Dean's side, Sam smiled as he watched the older boy on the TV help his sibling make a boat out of newspaper.

"Dean? Can we do that?" Sam asked, excited as he watched little George Denbrough run along the sidewalk, following his boat as it floated along the water at the edge of the road.

"Sure Sammy," Dean shrugged, "As soon as spring starts."

Sam smiled happily, thinking about the cold November snow piling up outside their motel room.

Sam tensed with worry as George's toy boat was sucked down into the gutter.

"Oh no," the five-year old whispered and his brother hugged him.

"Don't worry, Sammy," Dean consoled, "I'm sure his big brother will make him a new one."

Sam nodded and watched as George went down on his hands and knees, peering sadly into the sewer grate.

Go home, Sam thought, Bill will make you a new boat.

Both George Denbrough and Sam Winchester startled when a clown with a white face, a big red nose and busy red hair appeared in the sewer.

Dean chuckled and patted Sam on the back, his younger brother giving him a small smile in return.

"Is that clown going to give his boat back?" Sam asked his brother and Dean lifted one shoulder.

"Dunno, Sammy," Dean muttered distractedly, "I'm trying to watch…"

Sam scowled but turned back to the TV. Pennywise didn't seem like a bad person. He was going to give George's boat back.

Sam raised an eyebrow when Pennywise informed the little boy that there was cotton candy and rides and lots of surprises down in the sewer. Sam had never been to a carnival or a fair before but he knew that those places had candy and games and rides… could a carnival fit in the sewer?

Sam screamed when Pennywise's smile turned to a frown and he opened his mouth to reveal sharp teeth. The clown grabbed George's hand and pulled him into the storm drain. Sam closed his eyes and put his hands over his ears, shaking and he started to cry like a baby.

SPN

Dean should have known. He should not have let his brother watch the movie. Sam's high-pitched wail startled him from the movie- Dean already shocked to see the clown's vampire-like teeth and gaping, hungry mouth- and he fumbled stupidly with the remote for one long minute before finally pressing the OFF button.

"Sammy! It's okay," Dean grabbed his terrified sibling and hugged him to his chest, "It's just a movie, buddy."

Dean carded his hand through his brother's dark, wavy hair and cursed himself for being such an idiot.

"You're okay, Sammy," Dean cooed, hoping that Sam would calm down.

"Why'd he do that, Dean?" Sam asked through his tears, "Why'd that clown do that?"

Dean bit his lip, "I don't know, Sammy."

"I thought clowns were nice," Sam wailed, inconsolable. Dean knew- hoped- that part of Sam's reaction was just from lack of sleep and that he hadn't just traumatized the kid for life.

"They are, Sammy," Dean tried to reassure his brother; "They're the good guys."

The little boy shook his head, "Nuh uh…"

"Sam, you know that stuff's not real, right?" Dean pleaded, "They just make up that to scare you."

Sam sniffed and wiped the sleeve of his pajama shirt over his runny nose, "Promise?"

Dean smiled, "I promise you. Clowns are not scary at all."

Sam narrowed his eyes at the older boy as if he didn't believe him.

"Look, you like Ronald McDonald, right?" Dean asked and Sam nodded.

"Is he scary?" Dean prompted.

"No," Sam admitted, "He makes good burgers."

Dean smiled, relieved, "See? They aren't bad… it was just some dumb movie."

Sam nodded and yawned widely.

"Let's get you to bed," Dean said gently. Dean picked his brother up and deposited him in the second bed, pulling the duvet up to Sam's chin and kissing him on the forehead as soon as the kid was settled.

"Goodnight Sammy," Dean whispered.

"G'night De," Sam mumbled back, already half-asleep.

Dean sat down on the edge of his own bed and slumped foreword. He felt bad for scaring Sam but he was sure he'd get over it eventually… besides, there were a lot more terrifying things out there than clowns. Turning off the lights, Dean crawled into his own bed and closed his eyes, his breathing soon becoming slow and steady with sleep.

SPN

John peered at his youngest child in the rearview mirror. Sam looked tired and wondered why. Maybe Dean was letting him stay up later than he should; John thought and glanced at his oldest son from the corner of his eye.

Dean was staring out the window, his chin propped up on the heel of his hand.

John shrugged. Sam would always sleep while they drove if he wanted to.

The eldest Winchester's stomach gave a loud growl and John checked his watch. It was nearly noon and they hadn't eaten since breakfast hours before.

"Are you boys getting hungry?" the father asked and both sons perked up a little bit.

"Yeah," Dean said, "Where are we going?"

John quickly glanced at the sign indicating a rest area was coming up and shrugged, "There's a McDonalds not far from here."

"Great," Dean exclaimed excitedly. He loved McDonalds. They had the best cheeseburgers.

"O-okay," Sam answered somewhat hesitantly.

John frowned, "You feeling alright, buddy?"

Sam nodded, "Yes, Daddy."

John shrugged. Sam was clearly tired so his father didn't think anymore about it. Besides, he was used to his youngest being stubborn and picky when it came to food. Sam probably just didn't want to eat at the restaurant.

"I'll get you a Happy Meal, okay?" John told his youngest and Sam nodded.

SPN

Sam held his father's hand tightly as the small family crossed the busy parking lot and headed towards the low, grey-stone building.

He told himself to stop being a baby; only babies were afraid of things like clowns and he definitely wasn't one, he was five-years old!

Once they were inside, Sam relaxed a little. There were tons of people here. There was nothing to be scared of.

"I'll get the food," John told the boys, "Dean, why don't you find us a seat?"

"Okay, c'mon Sammy," Sam let go of his father's hand and reached out for his brother.

Dean found them a table close to McDonald's. The beige plastic seats were hard and kind of sticky as if someone had spilled soda and hadn't cleaned up. The faux grey granite tabletop had crumbs on it. Dean quickly swiped a hand across the table, brushing the offending bits onto the tiled floor and smiled at his brother sitting beside him.

Sam stared at the people sitting around them; there were a lot of kids his own age here and he saw some of them playing in a small group a few feet away from the group of tables.

"Dean? Can I go play?" Sam asked, pouting his lower lip a little bit.

Dean swept his gaze across the playing children and nodded, "Just stay where I can see you, okay?"

"Yeah!" Sam jumped off his seat and ran to the other kids.

"Hi, I'm Sam," he shouted and a chorus of names- Danny, Anne, Trevor, Ethan, Wanda and Brian- were given in return.

The other children welcomed Sam eagerly and in no time at all they were chasing one another around in a loud, riotous game of 'tag'.

Every so often, Sam glanced up to see Dean watching him. He'd smile and wave at his big brother and Dean would do the same.

Sam turned his attention away from his sibling when he heard his new friends screech happily and flock to a clown who looked exactly like Ronald McDonald. Sam hesitated for a moment but then followed the others toward the man.

Standing at the rear of the group, Sam smiled shyly up at the clown. Ronald McDonald grinned and waved his fingers at him.

While the other kids chattered and laughed with the fast-food mascot, Sam remained quiet and watchful.

Soon, one by one, Sam's friends were called away by their parents to eat their lunch or leave the rest area and the youngest Winchester was alone with the clown.

Ronald McDonald crouched down in front of Sam.

"Hello there," he said in a friendly manner and Sam took a cautious step back.

"Hi," Sam replied politely. He glanced back to his brother but frowned when he saw that the table was abandoned. Maybe Dean went to go help Dad or went to the bathroom.

"What's your name?" Ronald asked.

Sam wasn't sure if he should tell the clown. He decided that it wouldn't hurt him if he did.

"Sammy," Sam answered, his gaze traveling back to the table, searching for his brother.

The clown chuckled, "I guess you already know who I am, don't you?"

Sam nodded.

"Hey Sammy?" Ronald asked, moving slightly closer to Sam. The boy didn't notice though, too focused on trying to catch sight of his family.

"Yeah?" Sam didn't even look at the man. He craned his neck to peer at the lineup in front of the McDonald's but couldn't see his father or brother.

"Do you like balloons?"

Sam shrugged and turned to Ronald, "I guess."

"You guess?! Well, if you come with me, I'll change your mind," the clown suggested.

"I don't know," Sam replied quickly, "I should ask my Daddy."

Ronald placed his yellow-gloved hands on his hips.

"You're in luck," he smiled widely, "I already talked to your Daddy and he said it was okay."

Sam still was uncertain. He wasn't completely sure about clowns. But Dean had said that the bad clown in the movie wasn't real, that clowns were the good guys.

"Okay," Sam smiled, "But we have to be quick so Daddy and Dean don't worry."

Ronald grinned and stood up, reaching down to take Sam's hand.


	2. Chapter Two

Dean zipped up his fly and washed his hands in the sink, standing on the tips of his toes in order to reach the tap. His stomach growled hungrily and he hoped his father wouldn't be much longer getting their food.

After drying his hands quickly, Dean walked down the short corridor that separated the bathroom from the dining area and back into the food court. The smell of burgers wafted over the boy and he picked up his pace.

Dean strolled past families and couples enjoying their take-out food and the chance to rest before they too, continued on their own journeys. Turning to look at the lineup for McDonalds, Dean saw his father near the front and smiled eagerly.

The eleven-year old returned to the table he'd been sitting at earlier- glad that no one had stolen it while he was using the restroom- and turned to watch his little brother play… only Sam wasn't there.

Dean's heart skipped a beat and his eyes darted nervously around the open area where he'd last seen his brother.

Maybe he decided to go stand with Dad, the boy thought and relaxed.

Dean waited for about ten seconds before standing and making his way to the McDonald's counter. He smiled when he saw his father but the grin slid off his face when he saw that John was alone.

Sam couldn't have gone to the bathroom, Dean told himself, I would have seen him.

The nine-year old felt panic rise in his belly and he nearly ran back to where he'd been sitting. He climbed up onto the seat and onto the tabletop to get a better view of the area surrounding him.

"Sam!" Dean called out; drawing the attention of people eating nearby but he ignored them, "Sammy!"

The boy expected to see his little brother appear as if from thin air, giggled because he'd gotten the jump on Dean but Sam didn't return.

"Sam!" Dean cried out again and he swore as someone grabbed him around the middle, lashing out with his fists and kicking his legs.

"Get off me!" the boy snapped angrily but stopped fighting as soon as he saw who was holding him- the rest area's security guard- and went limp.

The guard- a man in his seventies- set Dean back on the ground and squinted down at him.

"Are you alright, son? You sound as if you're looking for someone," the kindly guard said and after only a slight pause Dean nodded.

"I can't find my brother," the nine-year old admitted. Although Dean's father was adamant about his sons talking to strangers, he always told them that certain people- police officers, fire fighters and doctors- were okay to speak with because they almost always had good intentions and just wanted to help.

"Are your parents nearby?" the old guard asked and Dean nodded, pointing to the McDonald's.

"My Dad's getting us lunch," he explained and the guard nodded before asking, "Can you take me to him?"

Dean made his way quickly through the dining area, aware of the guard right behind him and felt a little better. The security guard would help them find Sammy.

John seemed to sense his son's presence and looked up as the boy and man approached. Thinking that Dean had gotten in some kind of trouble, the father scowled at his child.

"What did he do?" the eldest Winchester asked, his tone conveying annoyance.

"Nothing sir," the older man shook his head and quickly introduced himself as Earl Bunting, "Can step over here please?"

One eyebrow raised, John did as he was asked and stepped out of line, only then realizing that Dean didn't have Sam in tow.

"Where's Sam?" John asked his oldest boy.

"I don't know," Dean mumbled, "I can't find him."

John's heart skipped a beat and he turned his attention to the security guard. The older man, however, was looking at Dean.

"When was the last time you saw your brother?"

Dean was staring at the ground. He didn't want his father to see the tears already welling up in his eyes.

"I just want to the bathroom," Dean mumbled guiltily, "I was only gone for a few minutes. I went and then I came right back and Sammy wasn't there."

John couldn't even find it in himself to be angry with his son for leaving his brother alone. He knew how Dean always protected Sam and it was likely killing him that the younger boy was missing.

"Before anyone panics," Earl spoke up calmly, "I'll send out a public announcement with a description of your boy… in cases like this the child's just wandered away and will pop up soon."

John nodded. There was no need to start worrying. Yet.

They were in a crowded rest area, full of people looking after their own kids. It was likely that Sam would be spotted by a keen-eyed mother or a playful youngster and be back with them in no time at all.

The guard led the Winchesters away from the food court and through a door marked 'Employees Only'. Dean unconsciously reached out to touch his father's hand as they followed the security guard to his office. The room was small and smelt strongly of cigar smoke. The guard offered the single swivel chair to John and the father settled down onto it, pulling his oldest onto his lap, trying to comfort Dean.

"Can you give me a description of your son? What he looks like, what he was wearing?" Earl asked and John nodded.

"His name is Sam... he's five but small for his age…" John began, finding it difficult to talk about his child in such a way, his mind going to visions of Missing Children pictures printed on milk cartons.

"He has dark brown hair," John continued quietly, "It's kind of long- ends just past his ears- and green eyes…"

The guard nodded, patient with the distraught father.

"He was wearing blue jeans and a blue and red Superman t-shirt," John said, "And his winter coat."

"Did he have mittens or a toque on?" the security guard asked and John shook his head.

"We left them in the car," he answered and Dean turned his hazel eyes up to his father.

"Sam had one of his green army guys in his pocket," the boy offered, if that could help them.

Earl nodded grimly. He felt his heart go out to the small family. It was always heartbreaking when a kid went missing, whether they were found or not, those moments when you thought you'd never see your child again were devastating. The old man knew from experience what it was like… he'd lost his son in Korea.

Clearing his throat, Earl looked pointedly at the Winchesters, "After I make the announcement but I'd like you to stay here. We'll have enough chaos out there with everyone looking for your boy without you getting into the fray."

John wanted to argue with the older man, he wanted to look for his son but he only nodded and stared down at the top of Dean's head.

The Winchesters listened numbly as the security guard spoke over the building's PA system, alerting all those inside to the missing boy and to take the child to the information desk immediately if he was found.

Dean looked up when Earl finished the announcement.

"Sam won't want to go with anyone," he protested, "He knows not to talk to strangers or go with them."

"I'm sure he'll know that it's safe to go to the information desk," the security guard said gently.

Dean shook his head, "No, he'll be scared if anyone comes near him… I should be there. He'll come to me… maybe I could talk to him over the PA system."

John reached out and gripped his son's shoulder, "We have to let Earl do his job."

Dean all but glared at his job, "But I want to do my job! I want to go out and find Sam myself!"

John's face contorted in anger for a split second before changing to sadness.

"Let's all go to the information desk," Earl suggested, "That way, Sam will see you right away."

Dean liked that idea. He jumped down from his father's lap and left the office before either man had moved.

John looked apologetically at the guard but Earl just shrugged it off. They followed Dean as he stalked right to the faux wooden desk at the far end of the building and watched silently as the boy clambered up to sit on it. The teenage girl at the desk gave the nine-year old a pitying look but didn't say anything.

John leaned against the desk, eyes scanning the dining area with hawk-like intensity. Earl listened to the chatter on his two-way radio absentmindedly as he squinted at every young boy that passed close by.

SPN

Tears of fear ran down Sam's face as he stared at the man sitting across from him on the bench seat. He was lying uncomfortably on his stomach, facing the stranger, his hands behind his back and held together with a plastic cable tie locked tightly around his small wrists, his feet touching the door with his ankles immobilized with a second tie. Sam struggled to breathe through his nose; a piece of duct tape covered his mouth.

Ronald, still wearing most of his makeup, looked down at Sam when the boy let out a whimper.

"Shhh," the man cooed and reached down to stoke Sam's hair, "Don't be afraid. I'll take care of you."

Sam closed his eyes. Dean would run his fingers through his hair to comfort him but when this man- this clown- did the same thing, it just felt wrong. He didn't know where this stranger was taking him but wherever it was; Sam didn't want to go there.

Maybe he's really Pennywise; Sam thought frantically and began to struggle.

Ronald grabbed the back of the boy's shirt to prevent him from falling off the seat. Sam let out a low whine and the man shushed him again.

"We're almost home," the clown said with a smile that made Sam's skin crawl.

SPN

As the long minutes ticked by Dean grew more and more anxious, more and more scared. He felt terrible. He shouldn't have left his brother alone. What had he been thinking?

Dean wished that Sam would just run up to them, laughing and ask where his Happy Meal was.

"Do you want the other Twinkie?" the girl behind the desk asked and held out the snack cake still in its packaging.

Dean hesitated and looked to his father. John was speaking quietly to Earl Bunting and Dean didn't want to bother them.

"Okay," he answered and took the offered treat.

Dean ate the Twinkie without really tasting it. The girl behind the desk watched him.

"What?" the boy demanded defensively.

"You'll get your brother back," the girl said softly. Dean handed her the empty plastic wrapper and she slipped it back into her lunch bag.

SPN

Sam grimaced as the man tore the duct tape away from his mouth.

Upon arriving at Ronald's house, the clown had picked the small boy up, holding him under his arm and carried him inside. The man took Sam down a long hallway and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor of a room that had a bed as its only piece of furniture. Sam laid his cheek against the brown carpet and cried when the stranger left him alone, closing the door behind him. Sam's eyes darted around the room, staring at the yellowed walls, the window with stained, lacy curtains and the bed. No matter where Sam looked, his gaze was always drawn back to that bed. It didn't have any sheets on it, only the box spring and mattress.

Sam trembled with terror. He wanted his Daddy. He wanted Dean. He wanted to leave this place. He wanted Ronald to go away.

Now that Sam could talk, he wailed. The man had entered the room with a pair of scissors and had cut the ties around the boy's ankles and wrists, pulling the child into his lap before taking the tape away from his mouth.

Sam tried to get away from the man but Ronald kept one arm wrapped around his middle, preventing him from moving.

"I want my Daddy! Go away! I want Dean! I want to go home!" Sam cried. He was bawling like a baby but he didn't care; his teachers at school had told their students to scream and cry as loud as possible if someone who wasn't your Mommy or Daddy took you away.

Ronald put his free hand on Sam's head and hissed in the boy's ear, "This is your home now, Sammy."

Sam continued to struggle, "I don't want to live with you! I want my Daddy! I want Dean!"

Moving his hand from the boy's hair, Ronald pinched the child's neck hard and Sam let out a cry of pain.

"Are you going to be a good boy?" the stranger asked and Sam nodded frantically. He didn't want to get hurt again.

"You must be warm in that coat," Ronald said in an overly friendly voice.

"I'm okay," Sam answered quietly but the man ignored him.

With his free hand, Ronald unzipped Sam's coat and the boy squirmed uncomfortably.

"Please don't… I want my coat," Sam whimpered but again the man acted as though he hadn't heard.

Ronald pulled Sam's right hand from the jacket and then the left, dumping the article of clothing off to the side once the boy was free of it. He smiled at the child's blue t-shirt and placed a hand on Sam's back- he could feel the boy's heart beat through his fingers.

Sam gulped, trying to stop crying and whimpered when the man put his hands under his arms, standing him up and turning him around.

The youngest Winchester stared at the clown with large, wet eyes and the man smiled at him.

"Can I put my coat back on? Please?" Sam asked plaintively.

Ronald shook his head, "No, you don't need it."

Sam lowered his head, sniffing as more tears spilled from his eyes. He wished Dean was here- his brother would probably call him a baby for crying so much but he didn't care- because he always made everything better.

"Take off your pants," the man demanded and Sam's head snapped up.

"I don't want to!" he cried and turned to run away from the stranger. Ronald was faster than the five-year old and grabbed the collar of the boy's shirt; Sam kicked and fought as the man pushed him onto the floor and started tugging his jeans down.

Ronald threw the small pair of pants behind him and released Sam, frowning at the disobedient child.

Sam tried to pull his t-shirt down far enough to cover his underwear but it wasn't long enough.

"I thought you said you were going to be a good boy?" the man asked and tsked sadly.

"Why can't I have my pants?" Sam squeaked out.

"You won't need them," Ronald explained casually, "Now, are you going to be a good boy and do what I tell you?"

Sam hesitated. He didn't know what the man wanted but he also didn't want to get hurt. Ronald got angry really fast and Sam was scared of him.

The five-year old nodded. He flinched when the strange man reached out and put a hand on his cheek.

"You don't need your boots or socks either," Ronald prompted, "So what do you do?"

"Take them off?" Sam asked and the man smiled at him.

Sam sat down on the carpet and pulled his winter boots off, followed by his socks. Maybe if he did what Ronald told him to, he'd be okay.

He watched silently as the clown gathered up his clothes and left the room, locking the door behind him.


	3. Chapter Three

Ronald McDonald- whose real name was Dennis Pine- dropped the boy's clothes in the kitchen and made his way to the bathroom to clean his makeup off.

He was so excited. It was Saturday and that meant he had the whole day to spend with Sammy tomorrow and then after that… Dennis shivered in anticipation.

He never did anything to the boys on the first day. He was content to just touch them and watch them, get to know them a little bit before doing what he really wanted with them.

At first they cried and shook and fought but eventually they stopped and did whatever he told them to.

Dennis knew he had taken a risk by grabbing Sammy in broad daylight but as soon as he had seen the boy playing with the other children, he knew he had to have him. It had taken Dennis all of his willpower not to run his hands through the boy's hair right there in front of everyone. No one had seen him leave with the child, he was sure of it. People were more concerned with their own brats to pay any attention to the friendly fast-food mascot.

SPN

Dean was growing impatient and worried. No one was approaching the information desk with his little brother in tow and the older boy was becoming frightened.

John checked his wristwatch every few seconds, his expression turning darker every second Sam remained lost.

"Excuse me?" a middle-aged man asked. He was holding the hand of a little blonde girl- Dean recognized her as one of the kids Sam had been playing with earlier- and had a frazzled, apologetic look on his face.

"Yes?" Security guard Earl asked and the father cleared his throat.

"Wanda has something to say," the man explained, "She refused to leave until she spoke to you."

The girl's father looked pointedly at Dean and the nine-year old raised his eyebrow.

"Me?" Dean jumped off the desk and stepped up to the little girl.

"You're Sam's big brother," Wanda said matter-of-factly and Dean nodded.

"This is my Dad," he pointed to John and the eldest Winchester crouched down so that he was on eye-level with the children.

"When we was eating lunch," Wanda began, "I was lookin' around and I saw Sam talking to Ronald."

John's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Ronald?"

Wanda nodded, "Yeah! He was really nice to us."

Dean's father looked up at the little girl's, "Who's Ronald? One of the other kids?"

Wanda, realizing that the grown-ups had no clue who she was talking about, stomped her foot on the floor and nearly shrieked, "Ronald! You know! Ronald McDonald!"

"Ronald… McDonald?" John asked slowly and the girl nodded.

"I'm sorry, she wouldn't stop talking about it," Wanda's father explained but John waved the apology away.

Dean had gone very pale. His heart had dropped down into his stomach.

"How long ago did your daughter see the clown speaking with Sam?" Earl asked; a grim expression on his face.

"Half an hour," the man answered, "Forty-five minutes… why? You don't think?"

Wanda's father didn't finish his question, the implication of what his child had witnessed already dawning on him.

"Did you see where they went?" John asked, trying to remain calm and not frighten the little girl.

"Nuh," Wanda shook her head, her pigtails flapping with the movement, "Mom told me to eat my food an' stop starin' around."

"I hope you get your boy back," Wanda's father told John, his own expression mirroring the other man's. He didn't know what he'd do if anyone kidnapped his little girl.

"I hope that we've helped," he concluded and picked up his daughter, walking away quickly.

"Dean, did you see this guy?" John asked, straightening once again to his full height.

The eleven-year old bit his lip and shook his head, "I must have been in the restroom."

Had Sam gone willingly with the man? Although his brother liked clowns as much as the next kid, Dean recalled Sam's hesitation when their father had suggested having lunch at McDonald's; clearly the boy hadn't forgotten about the movie they'd been watching the night before. Sam knew not to go anywhere with strangers, though. Both Dean and their father had drilled the importance of that into the child's head and the nine-year old had been to the same police presentations at school. So why had Sam left with the clown?

I should have been there; Dean thought guiltily, I should have taken Sam with me to the bathroom, not left him alone. If something happens to him, it'll be all my fault.

SPN

Sam stood on his toes and stretched as far as possible but he couldn't reach the window no matter how hard he tried. His fingertips just brushed the sill, scrabbling at the dust and dead flies on the wood but he just couldn't reach the glass.

Sam crouched down and wiped at his watery eyes. He was trapped. He just wanted to go home. He wanted his brother and his Daddy. He didn't want to stay here with Ronald.

The boy's eyes darted to the door when he heard the knob turn and he froze in fear. The man that walked into the room didn't look like Ronald at all but Sam could tell he was the same; he smiled the same way the clown had.

Sam's lower lip trembled as Ronald approached him.

"Please… I wanna go home," Sam whimpered, hoping that the man would be different now that he wasn't a clown.

Ronald scowled.

"I thought you said you were going to be a good boy," he said in a quiet voice, "Now you're a liar as well."

Sam's eyes went wide, "I'm not!"

Ronald smacked the boy across the face, causing the child to stumble back and fall.

The five-year old raised a hand to his mouth and felt something warm running down his chin. Pulling his hand away, Sam saw his small fingers red with blood and he started to cry.

"Stop crying!" Ronald snapped, "You deserved it!"

Sam tried to stop the tears from falling, wiping an arm across his eyes and choked back his sobs, afraid that if he didn't, the man would hit him again.

"I'm s-sorry," Sam whispered and Ronald smiled.

The boy ducked his head when the man reached out and carded his fingers through his hair, "I forgive you."

Sam peered up at Ronald through his long bangs hopefully. The man looked down at him and pointed to the single piece of furniture in the room.

"Get on the bed," Ronald instructed, his smile not leaving his face but his tone was similar to the one John used when his order was to be obeyed without question.

Sam's eyes welled up with tears of fear and he shook his head, "I don't wanna."

The hand in the boy's hair tightened into a fist and Sam cried out as Ronald dragged him forward.

"Get on the fucking bed now," the man growled and released Sam, giving him a shove in the right direction as he did so.

With tears streaming down his face, the boy clambered up onto the mattress and sat trembling as the man approached. Sam moved to the far side of the bed, closest to the window as Ronald sat down. The man lay down on the bed, facing Sam and grabbed the boy's arm.

"No," Sam whimpered, "Please. Let me go."

The stranger ignored him and forced to boy to lie on his side, facing away from him. Sam stared at the bright whitish sky through the window and held his breath. An arm snaked around him and pulled the boy closer until Sam's back was pressed up against them man's chest. Sam curled himself up into a ball, his knees tucked against his own chest and his arms wrapped tightly around them.

He was used to sleeping with his brother- the motels that their father took them to usually only had two beds- when his Daddy was with them but liked having his own bed better so he didn't have Dean kicking him awake in the middle of the night. Sometimes when Dean wasn't feeling well, Sam would have to sleep with his Daddy because he didn't want both of them to get sick but John never made the five-year old lie right up against him.

Ronald started petting Sam's hair again and the boy just stared out the window at the sky, trying to stay calm so the man wouldn't hurt him.

"Don't be afraid, Sammy," the stranger whispered to Sam, "I'll take care of you… but you also have to take care of me."

SPN

John was reeling. He couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it. His little boy had been snatched in the middle of a crowded rest area by some pervert. This was every parent's worst nightmare. But John was familiar with nightmares and not every parent carried around the same firepower as he did.

"Earl," the eldest Winchester grabbed the security guard's attention, "Can you tell me anything about this person?"

The older man shrugged, "I don't really know the fellow… seems nice enough… good with the kiddies."

John snarled in frustration, "Does he have a name? An address?"

Earl's eyebrows raised, "Mr. Winchester, I think we should call the police."

John practically growled at the suggestion, "There's no time!"

"I don't have his information," Earl explained, "But they will at the McDonald's."

John didn't have to be told twice. He took hold of his oldest boy's hand and stalked off toward the restaurant.

Earl followed the father. He briefly considered calling the cops himself but decided against it, there was no way John Winchester was going to wait around for them take their time to question everyone and then hand over his little boy's body.

Dean ran after his father and couldn't help but smirk just a little as John pushed through the lineup of customers- receiving angry glares and muttered insults- and leaned right into the cashier's face, demanding to see the information on the guy who dressed as the fast-food joint's clown mascot.

The pimply-faced teen manning the cash register didn't say anything for a long moment, didn't answer John's questions about the man who worked as Ronald McDonald until he finally squeaked out that he should go get his manager.

Security guard Earl kept annoyed customers away from the father and son while John and Dean waited. The eldest Winchester rested his arms on the countertop, drumming his fingers impatiently. Dean peered around at the people watching them, some moved on to one of the other restaurants but many stayed to ogle or wait for their meal orders.

A woman in her forties appeared with a scowl on her face, clearly irritated at the Winchesters' disruption.

"Can I help you sir?" She asked in a tone that told Dean she really didn't want to help him at all.

"I need the contact information for the man who plays your clown," John all but growled at the woman.

"Ronald McDonald," Dean clarified and the woman peered down at the nine-year old.

"I'm sorry sir," she apologized, "I can't give away that sort of information. Please leave before I call the security."

Earl cleared his throat and waved at the manager. The woman looked confused.

"I still can't just tell you where my employees live," she continued to argue, "If there's a problem, I advise you to contact the police."

John, teeth bared in a snarl, fished his wallet from his pocket and pulled out one of his many fake ID's- this one an FBI badge- and slammed it down on the counter in front of the woman.

"I am the police!" John all but shouted at her and Dean grinned smugly at the manager's shocked expression.

"I- I didn't know," the woman stammered, "I'm sorry."

John ducked his head down and the manager hurried into the back are of the restaurant to retrieve her employee's file.

SPN

Dennis Pine looked down at his trophies lovingly. He had arranged them carefully in the top drawer of his dresser. He liked to look at them whenever he was feeling particularly lonely, when he didn't have a boy with him.

Reaching down, Dennis ran his fingers slowly over the pair of children's' underwear that was sitting on top. The undergarment was light green and had belonged to a boy named Charlie Donahue. Dennis remembered Charlie- he remembered every boy- but Charlie was special; he had been the first.

Dennis carefully closed the drawer, his trophies safe from prying eyes and his thoughts turned to the newest boy, Sammy. Although the child had only been with him for a couple of hours, Dennis already loved him. The man smiled as he thought of what the next few days would bring. He half-closed his eyes as he pictured the boy's expressive green eyes and soft, dark brown hair. Maybe he could break his own rule- just this once- and start things early with Sammy.

Dennis nodded to himself and smiled knowingly as he walked down the hall towards the boy's bedroom.

SPN

John gripped the Impala's steering wheel with white knuckles. His gaze didn't waver from the road stretching out ahead of him. Dean sat ramrod straight in the passenger seat beside him, his young face etched with concern, his mouth a thin, grim line.

The eldest Winchester had barely read the son of a bitch's address before he tore out of the rest area, his oldest boy trotting behind him to keep up. John didn't know if Earl had called the actual police and he didn't really care- he would get to this fucker before they did.

The town was tiny- more of a hamlet than anything- with many houses boarded up and abandoned, their owners having gone to the bigger cities. John caught sight of the street signs in the periphery of his vision as he drove, his foot pressed down hard on the gas.

John nearly flew past the house. He slammed his foot down on the break and the Impala jerked to a stop, her engine ticking as it cooled in the wintery air.

Dennis Pine's house was one of only on its street not abandoned. It was an old, ugly bungalow- its brick face pockmarked and crumbling, the shutters hanging in dire need of fresh paint- with a small yard covered in dirty, grey snow. An ancient pickup with patches of red rush taking over the original blue paint on the truck sat in the cracked driveway.

John stepped out of the car and stared at the house for a moment while he took the safety of his handgun that he always kept in his jacket pocket. He turned when he heard the passenger door slam shut and frowned when he saw Dean coming around the front of the vehicle towards him.

"Wait in the car, Dean," John ordered his son. He didn't exactly know what to expect when he went into Pine's house and he didn't want Dean to see anything he shouldn't.

"No way! I wasn't watching Sammy like I was supposed to! I'm going with you! I have to!" the nine-year old argued, his small face a tight mask of anger and guilt.

John closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, "Alright, but if I tell you to get out, you leave right away, whether we have Sam or not."

Dean stuck his chin out in defiance. John knew the boy would get his brother out of the house no matter what.

Without waiting another moment, John turned on his heel and stalked to the front door, Dean right behind him.

The eldest Winchester glanced at the door for a second before lifting one booted foot and kicked the handle, breaking the wood surrounding it and the door flung open.

John stepped inside, eyes darting around the hallway, sensing his son slip past him and moving deeper into the house. John swore silently, not about to shout out his son's name and draw attention to the boy.

The enraged father walked quickly but quietly down the hall, past a kitchen that was meticulously clean despite the out-of-date appliances it featured and turned into a short corridor that looked like it might lead to the sleeping quarters.

"SAM!" John cringed slightly as his eldest's voice called out almost frantically. A floorboard creaked from beyond the door on John's left and he sidled up to it, one hand on his gun, the other reaching for the doorknob.

SPN

Dean ran frantically into the house, his fear for his brother outweighing any thought of danger. He had to find his little brother, he just had to.

"SAM!" Dean cried his sibling's name, his eyes darting to every closed door he saw.

The nine-year old rushed down a hallway that attached to the kitchen and called for his brother again.

"Sammy! Sam! You in here!" Dean shouted at the top of his voice.

Please God, let Sammy be here; Dean thought and jumped when he heard a cry come from the behind the closed door on his right.

"Dean!" The older boy's knees went weak with relief at the sound of his little brother's voice, despite the fact that it was shrilly with fear.

"I'm here Sammy," Dean pressed his cheek against the wooden door, "I'm coming to get ya."

The boy grabbed the doorknob and swore when he found it didn't budge when he tried to turn it; not that he expected it to open magically at his touch, and fished in the back pocket of his jeans for a paperclip.

Speaking words of comfort to his sibling through the door that separated them, Dean twisted the thin piece of metal until it was as straight as an arrow. He had been practicing jimmying locks and he was getting pretty good at it. Dean squinted his eyes in concentration, listening intently as he jiggled the make-shift pick in the lock.

After an agonizingly long minute the lock clicked and Dean felt the doorknob turn easily in his hand. He took in the room as he searched for his brother, narrowing his eyes in disgust as he saw the bare mattress atop the box spring and frame that was the only furniture. Sam was curled into a ball in one corner of the room, hands over his head and his knees drawn up until they touched his chin. Dean rushed forward, and pulled his little brother into a hug. Sam let out a watery gasp and wrapped his thin arms around his brother's neck.

"It's okay," Dean murmured, "It's going to be okay."

The nine-year old frowned when he realized that Sam was only wearing his t-shirt and underwear. Shrugging his winter jacket off, Dean draped it over his younger brother's shoulders before picking him up.

"Wanna go home," Sam whimpered as he curled against his brother, his face buried against Dean's shoulder.

"I know Sammy," Dean said as he began walking, "We're leaving now."

The nine-year old didn't even look back as he carried his terrified brother from the house and towards the safety of the Impala. John had left the classic Chevy unlocked and Dean somehow managed to open the rear passenger door with one hand while still holding onto his brother with the other. He slid Sam into the car first before climbing onto the seat beside him. Sam immediately crawled onto Dean's lap- even before his brother had closed the door- and leaned against him, shivering.

Dean peered down at his brother's face and saw silent tears coursing down the little boy's cheeks. Sam's eyes were bloodshot and puffy; a telltale sign that he had already done a lot of crying in the past couple of hours and Dean hoped that his father gave the sicko who'd nabbed his brother exactly what he deserved.

Dean wrapped his arms protectively around his brother's small frame and began rocking back and forth.

"I've got you, Sammy," Dean whispered, "It's going to be alright."

After a few moments Dean took a deep breath and made up his mind to ask his brother the single most important question he could think of.

"Sammy?" Dean said and shifted slightly. Sam looked up at his brother through his fringe of dark bangs, his lower lip- split and slightly bruised, Dean noted- began to tremble.

"I have to ask you something very important, okay?" Dean said. He may have been only nine but he wasn't stupid, he knew full well what that clown intended when he'd kidnapped Sam. He carefully lifted his brother off of his lap and settled him down on the bench seat beside him.

"Did he hurt you Sammy? Did he touch you?" Dean asked. Sam's eyes were wide and filling with tears, "Did he touch you… down here?"

Dean indicated the area on himself and Sam shook his head.

"Or here?" Dean leaned forward slightly and placed his hand near the small of his back.

"No," Sam squeaked and shook his head frantically.

The nine-year old felt as if a great weight was lifted from his heart and he pulled his brother back onto his lap, hugging him tightly.

"That's good," Dean murmured and Sam closed his eyes as they waited for their father to return.

"Dean?" Sam's voice startled his brother and Dean peered down at him, worried.

"Yeah Sammy?" he asked and his heart began to beat faster.

"You were wrong," Sam whispered.

"About what?" Dean's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Clowns," Sam answered, "They're not good… they're all Pennywise guys."

Dean stared at his brother in confusion until he realized what his brother meant.

"Oh," he breathed, feeling as if all the air had been pressed from his lungs. Dean clenched his eyes shut and hugged his brother to his chest.

I'm so sorry, Sammy, Dean apologized silently as tears began to slip past his closed lids.

SPN

John flung the door open with enough force that the handle embedded into the plaster of the opposite wall. The man who stood before him sent John's blood to boiling. He looked as if he was in his late twenties or early thirties, with short blond hair and blue eyes. He wore jeans and a black t-shirt.

"Who're you?" Dennis asked the bear of a man standing in the doorway of his bedroom.

"You son of a bitch," John growled and almost smiled when he saw the man pale at the sight of his pistol trained on him.

Coward, John thought. He stepped forward and shoved the man, sending him crashing into the dresser behind him.

Dennis collapsed and tried to stand, pulling the top drawer down as he did so, scattering his precious trophies all over the carpet. The look of horror on the intruder's face made Dennis laugh.

John felt sick to his stomach and all he could do for a moment was stare as almost a dozen pairs of boys' underwear tumbled from the dresser. He reached down and grabbed the bastard's shirt and tugged him up as he pulled back the hand holding the gun.

"Please don't!" the pervert's eyes widened and he held up his hands defensively.

John saw red, "Did they say that? Did those boys beg you to stop?"

The man grinned. Dennis wasn't stupid. He knew this father- for what else could he be- would kill him without flinching and he really didn't mind… that was better than going to jail.

So why not hurt him before he did?

"They liked it," the blond-haired man claimed, "They all liked it. Your son liked it."

Dennis started to laugh as the man's face turned green but quickly regretted his reaction when the father pointed the gun at his stomach and fired. The sound of the gunshot muted by an illegal silencer John had equipped the gun with.

Blood splattered and the man collapsed, holding his belly. Dennis groaned and rolled on the floor.

"You asshole!" the injured man cried and John kicked him in the face. A swift death was too kind for someone like him. He was a monster of the worst kind.

"Your boy squealed like a girl the first time I-" Dennis began taunting but the man kicked him in the teeth, silencing him.

John stared down at the piece of shit at his feet. He decided that he'd aimed a little too high the first time and prepared to correct that mistake.

SPN

Dean looked up when the driver's door opened and John sank into the seat.

"Is he alright?" his father asked and turned in the seat to peer at both his boys.

Dean nodded, "I think so… just shaken up."

"Good," John wiped a hand over his face but didn't turn around right away.

Dean met his father's gaze and wasn't sure what to think when he caught sight of the moisture in John's eyes.

Sucking in a deep breath, John righted himself in his seat and put the key in the Impala's ignition. From the rearview mirror he watched Dean raise a hand and lay it gently on his brother's head.

John turned the radio on and put the volume on low as he drove away from Dennis Pine's house, content in the knowledge that the man would never hurt another child ever again.

The father smiled grimly when he heard Dean mutter something to Sam and the little boy let out a weak, nervous giggle.

John allowed himself a slight, sad smile. Sam would be okay. He was a strong kid and although they'd no doubt have to deal with some nightmares for a while, John was sure that Sam would bounce back.

SPN

Sam backed away from the clown as it approached him, the child nearly tripping over his own feet in an effort to get away from the threat.

The boy backed into another kid and cringed when the girl shrieked at him, her slice of ice cream cake smeared all over the front of her pink smock top.

Dean saw his brother retreating from the party clown who was holding a poodle-shaped balloon out to him and stepped forward, picking his sibling up off the lawn and sighing when Sam wrapped his arms around his neck.

A concerned mother looked at Dean and the boy shook his head, "He's not feeling well."

The woman's eyebrows furrowed and she grimaced in sympathy. Sam's friend- the birthday boy- ran up to them curiously.

"Hey! Are you okay?" the child asked, his party hat slightly askew on his curly hair.

"We've got to go, Tim," Dean explained and wished he could just get away, feeling his shoulder dampen with his brother's tears of fear.

"Oh… okay," Tim mumbled, disappointed, "Bye Sam! See you in school tomorrow!"

Dean turned and slipped through the open gate, stepping over discarded wrapping paper and plastic cups and utensils, picking up the pace when he walked down the driveway.

"I'm s-sorry, Dean," Sam mumbled but Dean only patted his back comfortingly. Months had passed since that horrible day at the rest area and it was the middle of June now. Sam had practically begged John to let him go to his friend's birthday party and the hunter had reluctantly agreed as long as Dean went as well.

At first the older boy had thought a kid's party was going to be lame- and it was- but he was glad he'd gone so he could be the one to swoop in and rescue his brother from the clown.

Sam's nightmares had abated over the weeks and only seemed to surface whenever he was stressed but it was clear that the boy was not about to get over his fear anytime soon.

McDonald's was now an off-limits place to eat with Sam around, not that Dean really minded, it wasn't like the restaurant held great memories for him either.

Dean wished he could say something to his brother to ease Sam's fear but he just didn't know what. His heart broke for his brother when every clown the boy saw turned into that Ronald and Sam almost have a panic attack.

Dean shook his head, hoping that eventually Sam would realize that not every clown was that John Wayne Gacy wannabe in disguise but for now was content to constantly be his little brother's hero and keep the awful memories at bay.

W

Dean smirked when he saw his brother sleeping with his mouth hanging open, a string of drool hanging from his lower lip. Fishing his phone from his pocket, Dean quickly snapped a picture, grinning at the thought of his new blackmail ammo.

The older brother's stomach growled loudly- heard even over the rock music pounding from the Impala's speakers- and he moved into the turning lane, eyes sparkling at the sight of the red and yellow sign just up ahead.

"Welcome to McDonalds, can I take your order?" a bored teenage voice drawled through the speaker and Dean quietly answered.

Sam startled awake when he felt something land in his lap.

"Dean? How long was I asleep for?" He asked, rubbing a hand over his face. Dean shrugged, one hand on the steering wheel, one holding onto a Big Mac that was dripping its contents onto his lap.

Sam shook his head and opened the paper bag on his lap and pulled out a red Happy Meal container.

"Real mature," Sam growled at his brother and Dean gave him a shit-eating grin.

"What?" the older Winchester asked innocently and Sam huffed in annoyance.

"You're a jerk," Sam informed him and unfolded the flaps of the red cardboard container.

Dean took a large bite of his burger and watched from the corner of his eye as Sam munched away on his French fries.

"What toy did they give you?" he asked Sam and flinched when his younger brother threw the small Iron Man action figure at him.

Sam shook his head and chuckled when Dean's sudden movement caused his burger to slide out of the bun and plop down onto his jeans.

"Shit," Dean grouched irritably but soon he too was laughing along with his brother, the younger man clearly not thinking about Dennis Pine and Dean silently wished that it could always be like this for Sam.

Reaching over, Dean turned the radio up and smiled when the Rolling Stones began playing.

You can't always get you want, Dean thought silently, but sometimes you get what you need.

He filched a fry from his brother and smiled when Sam grinned back at him, the bad memories once again pushed to the back of his mind for the time being and that was more than Dean could ask for.


End file.
